


Perspective.

by idkspookystuff



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkspookystuff/pseuds/idkspookystuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Oliver's relationship, as seen by the Keating Five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perspective.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lokithegodofsass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokithegodofsass/gifts).



> This is for my partner in crime [Josie](http://www.burrniesanders.tumblr.com) because she's a broke college student who can't afford candy for Easter. I hope this is as tooth-rottingly sweet as a chocolate bunny would be.  
> Follow me [on tumblr](http://www.theaterkidlester.tumblr.com) if you wanna read the prompts I write there.  
> Spoilers through 2x5, though no big plot points are revealed.

I.

 

Asher liked Connor. He was his bro, hs homie, the C man as he once called his fellow law student before a textbook was thrown at his face with Michaela reprimanding, _“Connor!”_ And Connor answering, “Sorry mom.” Whatever. Connor was still his bro.

And despite what anyone said, Asher was cool with Connor’s whole gay...thing. Okay, granted, he didn’t know much about the whole thing, but he was cool with it. Anyone who wasn’t was like, totally uneducated. It wasn’t a choice and he had no right to tell Connor where to put his dick. Hell, Connor didn’t tell him where to put his dick, so it was only fair.

Asher didn’t know much about Oliver. He had only been to Oliver and Connor’s when Michaela called him as “reinforcement in case they were going at it” and Oliver was only in the house when he had some kind of IT thing worked out or when he wanted to smile and blush at Connor while they stood in the corner talking about secret...gay things? Asher didn’t know and he didn’t really want to know. Rule 37 of bro-dom, don’t question a bro’s bro. Even if they were gay and banging each other.

Today, he was headed to Connor and Oliver’s apartment by himself. He had lended Connor a textbook to study earlier that day, until he realized that he really needed it back because he had written all of his lecture notes on it and his GPA would totally plummet to something not good if he got anything lower than a B on the exam tomorrow. He could practically hear his dad telling him off for not studying in advance in his head as he drove over to Connor’s house, but whatever, he had more important things to do, okay? Like play video games. Don’t judge him.

Asher parked in the parking lot outside the apartment building and trekked up the stairs to what Michaela had told him in a text that ended “. _..why do you need to know_ ” was Oliver’s apartment. “Connor?” He called when he reached the door. One of Oliver’s neighbors got into the door next to Oliver’s and gave him an odd look. _Whatever, dude. Like you’ve never forgotten a book._ “Connor? Oliver?” He tried again. “I kind of need my textbook back.”

When there was no answer, he decided to knock. However, the first rap at the door pushed it slightly open. Asher raised an eyebrow before he remembered Connor complaining about how horrible Oliver was at locking the door. “Whatever,” he said to himself. “It’s my book, Connor can deal with me breaking into his apartment to get it.” He took a deep breath and shook his head to rid himself of the craziness that was talking to himself before stepping inside.

Oliver’s apartment was very meticulously organized by someone that he knew wasn’t Connor, if his chicken-scratch lecture notes were anything to go by. He scanned the room to find Connor’s book-bag and found that it was sitting next to a couch. That both Connor and Oliver were also on.

They were both sound asleep, which explained their lack of answering the door. Connor’s hair was messy and his shirt rode up his hip a little, and his arms were wrapped around Oliver, holding his sleeping boyfriend, ( _fuck buddy, whatever, Asher didn’t do lables, K?)_ close to his chest. Oliver was snuggled close to Connor, his hair and sweater in a similar state, both his legs slotted between both of Connor’s in a way that almost made them seem like one being. Unwilling to wake the sleeping couple, Asher quickly grabbed the book from Connor’s bag and silently got out.

Maybe he also snapped a picture to show the others later, but if only to see the blush that would light up Connor’s face.

II.

Wes isn’t quite sure he can trust Connor. Connor’s never given him a reason not to trust him, but he seems like the kind of person who could, would, sell Wes out. Really, he doesn’t trust any of the Keating five, but Connor is the one he trusts the least.

Wes wasn’t quite sure anyone knew Oliver well, but he was perhaps the one who knew the least about Connor’s boyfriend, which meant that he trusted him even less than he trusted Connor. All he knew about Oliver was that he worked in IT and knew basically every awful thing Wes had ever done via the mouth of Connor, meaning that he could probably take Wes down with one mouse stroke and no one would be the wiser. Wes didn’t trust people like that.

He was sitting across from Oliver now, watching as he typed away on his computer. He said he could find information to help them on their case, which made Wes suspicious, not that he aired these, of course. He had learned in his time working for Annalise that nobody works without some kind of motivation. He just hoped Oliver’s wasn’t something he was going to get off of Wes’ back.

The room was silent when Connor said it. “Hey Ollie,” he called, Oliver’s head snapping up to meet Connor’s eyes. “C’mere for a sec, come check this out.”

 _‘Ollie?’_ Wes mouthed to Michaela as Oliver crossed the room to look at whatever Connor had on his screen. Michaela shrugged and Wes turned his attention back to the couple as Oliver read over Connor’s shoulder.

“That’s fascinating, Con,” Oliver answered, sounding genuinely interested in whatever Connor had just found. ‘ _Con?_ ’ Wes mouthed again to Michaela, who just shrugged again in response. “Guys, come look at this.”

The group all gathered to look at the file that Connor had found, which actually would help their case in court. “Yeah, _Con_ ,” Wes teased when he finished reading, relishing in the way Connor’s cheeks turned a bright red. “Good find.”

III.

Every detail of Michaela's life is planned down to the very nanosecond. Sure, she’s gotten more open and perhaps even frivolous in day-to-day occasions, but anyone who ever called Michaela Pratt a girl without ambition was...well, they were just someone who wasn’t right, okay?

And that’s all her friendship with Connor was: strictly for business purposes, to get further along in her law career. Michaela wasn’t stupid, that was certainly something she was not, and she knew that getting to be a lawyer would mean that she would have to have connections. While Connor certainly wasn’t as well educated as she was, he was smart, and she could tolerate him, which is more than what could be said for the other members of their so-called dream team. Wes was too suspicious, Laurel was too much of a mom, and Asher was just...Asher. He didn’t understand the rest of them.

So when Connor invited her over to his place for drinks, that’s all it was: connections, something to further her in her law career. Michaela wasn’t the type of person who did something without a reason.

When she knocked on the door to Connor’s apartment at exactly eight o’clock that night, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised with Oliver answering the door. They did live together, after all, but it perhaps it just hadn’t registered how-how _cozy_ Connor could be with someone before she saw Oliver open the door with a wide smile and a well-placed “Hi, Michaela. Come on in.” He was wearing a pair of jeans a t-shirt she was fairly certain belonged to Connor as it was hanging off of Oliver’s shoulders.

Connor was in the kitchen as Michaela walked in, leaving her jacket on the coatrack by the door. It was only then that she noticed the two coats hung on it, the four pairs of shoes under it, the two sets of keys on a little table by the door. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t see anything as she spotted Connor, in a pair of sweats and a shirt that was from a college he did not go to, standing over a pot. “Hey,” Connor greeted. “I was just gonna offer drinks but it was this one-” he pointed to Oliver with a ladle, the defendant in this situation laughing from behind Michaela. “-said we should probably feed you before we get you drunk.”

“I’m thoughtful,” Oliver defended himself teasingly. He crossed the kitchen and placed both hands on Connor’s waist before kissing him gently. The kiss was very quick but it was the first time Michaela had seen them kiss. She honestly hadn’t known that Connor could be so-so _domestic_.

“Mh,” Connor hummed in agreement. He laughed softly as he turned back to his pot. “He’s very polite, I’ll give him that.”

Oliver laughed and bumped Connor’s hips gently before approaching Michaela, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Come on,” he offered, leading her over to a stool next to their counter. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

IV.

Laurel likes Connor, genuinely, she does. She tries to find the good in everyone, that’s just the kind of person that she is. Frank teases her for it, calls it her mommy instinct, but it’s only there to keep her sane. She didn’t know how her fellow classmates could do it, go through life not trusting anyone, always second guessing things and never letting anyone in. She thinks one day it’s going to drive them to the brink of insanity and then quickly over it, and that makes her sad, but that’s not the kind of life she’s too keen on living.

She thinks that Oliver must do that for Connor: keep him sane. She thinks a relationship is good for little playboy Connor, someone to come home to at the end of the day, someone to assure him that he’s not the worst person in the world, someone to help him with the anxiety attacks that seem to plague him when it all gets to be too much. She doesn’t know much about Oliver, but he was nice enough, and when Connor was reciting an anecdote, his face lit up when he got to a part involving Oliver. They were good together. She hoped they were endgame, really, she did.

She figured it was fate. Like, maybe if she had gone to church more often or didn’t have sex in public places she wouldn’t have been tortured like this. And sure, Oliver was good for Connor, she had not been expecting this.

The group had been busy, a case to keep them occupied as well as the general pressures of being in the Milton law program, and Connor had jokingly admitted that all he and Oliver had been eating was takeaway Chinese over mountains of research papers or dozens of codes. Laurel was just trying to be a nice person that night as she drove a tray of lasagna over to the couple’s shared apartment.

Laurel let herself in with a key that Connor had given her ‘in case something ever happened to him’ which was not something that he liked to think about. She thought it would be a nice surprise for the stressed out couple. However, what she saw next was enough to make her want to gouge her eyes out with a spoon.

Connor and Oliver were sitting on a couch. Well, Connor was laying on his back, Oliver in his lap. Oliver was wearing only a sweater that was tugged up to his hands, his glasses far abandoned somewhere and his hair a mess. Connor was in a similar state, except he was shirtless, his hands on Oliver’s hips, his mouth open in a constant pant. There was a blanket around where their bodies met, but it was pretty obvious what was happening without the visual. Especially at Oliver’s low-pitched, “ _Fuck_ , Con.”

Laurel quickly shut the door and hightailed it out of the apartment building and to her car, lasagna and all. Needless to say, she ignored the next few calls from ‘ _Connor Walsh_ ’ an hour later.

V.

Connor knew himself better than anyone thought they did. He knew what he had done, he knew he was messed up and probably deserved to be locked away, didn’t deserve love, definitely did not deserve someone so amazing as Oliver. Oliver was the only thing in the whole damn world that kept him from blowing his head off, and he was so incredibly grateful for whatever random luck put them together in that bar when they first met. Love scared him and relationships scared him and commitment scared him but somehow with Oliver it wasn’t as scary as it was right, so incredibly right.

Oliver’s head was on Connor’s chest after a vigorous round of... _eh_ ….someone less trained in sexual acts may venture so far as to call it love-making. Connor had never been such a fan of such lovey-dovey domestic terms, but everything with Oliver was so filled with love that he wouldn’t be opposed to calling it love making. _Ugh_ , when did he become such a sap?

Oliver smiled up at him and, _oh yeah_ , that’s when. Connor was pretty sure that Oliver’s smile brought pure sunshine into the lives of everyone he looked at. Except Connor would never say that out loud because pride and stuff.

“I love you,” Oliver whispered softly. Connor rolled his eyes but the smile on his face gave him away as fond.

“Yeah, yeah, you sap,” Connor whispered in reply. He reached over Oliver to turn the lamp near their bedside table off before snuggling Oliver closer to his chest.

“I know you love me,” Oliver teased.

And it was true.

 


End file.
